


Fantastic Wreck

by lhknox



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, College AU, F/F, Loss, Love, Sadness, roommates au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lhknox/pseuds/lhknox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You tell her how you’ll go to college in New York City and drink expensive coffee and fall even more in love with the city lights as the backdrop to your lives. You tell her how you’ll go travelling when you’ve both graduated, all over Europe: drinking wine in Italy and navigating cobblestone streets in Prague and making love under a Parisian moon."</p><p>or,</p><p>Clarke can't figure out why her new roommate hates her so much.</p><p> </p><p>Another College Roommate AU that nobody needed or wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Want To Make Myself Worth Something

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter names come from the song I Am A Fantastic Wreck by an amazing Aussie artist called Montaigne.

Clarke knew she had fucked up the second she opened her mouth, she just had no idea how she managed to do it so soon into the school year. She didn’t regret signing up to be in a room with a random, in fact, she had done it on purpose; it would be a lot harder to study if she were rooming with one of her best friends. And so, she stepped into her new room four days before classes were due to start, and saw a thin brunette struggling to put her duvet into its cover. Dropping her bags by the foot of her bed, Clarke went over to help her new roommate, and together they managed to wrangle the bedding together.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” the girl said, wiping her brow. “I’m Lexa,” she adds, offering Clarke her hand. Clarke took a second to appreciate the girl standing in front of her. She wore black jeans that showed off the shape of her long legs, and a muscle tee which allowed Clarke to see the beginning of a tattoo on her left shoulder. Her smile was small, but it was sincere, and it made Clarke want to smile, too. And her eyes, goddamn, her eyes. Bright green and inquisitive, crinkled by the smile. 

“Clarke,” the blonde replied, shaking the girl’s hand, “and don’t mention it, you can help me do mine later.”

It was as though Clarke’s touch had burned Lexa; the brunette withdrew her hand with lightning speed. She stared at Clarke with an unreadable expression, her eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked. Lexa clenched her eyes shut, as though looking at Clarke was causing her pain.

“I’m sorry, I’ve, uh, I’ve got to…” Lexa reached behind her and grabbed the grey hoodie and cellphone that lay on the bed, and without another word she was gone, the door slammed shut behind her. Clarke stood, in the middle of the empty room, her thoughts slowing down and focusing only one thing.

What the fuck had she done to Lexa in the thirty seconds they had known each other?

//

Lexa didn’t come back that night, and Clarke would’ve been more worried had she actually known the girl. It hadn’t taken Clarke that long to unpack her things, and it was even easier once Octavia dropped by to help her. She had wanted to tell Octavia about the strange brief encounter, but something stopped her. Maybe it was because she still couldn’t figure out why Lexa had stared at her like that, or maybe it was because there was something about those bright green eyes that Clarke didn’t want to share with anybody just yet.

Clarke woke up to an empty room, Lexa’s bed undisturbed opposite her own messy one. More annoyed than she has any right to be, she got dressed quickly, before heading to the main office before breakfast.

“Hello,” she greeted one of the women behind the counter, “I have a security deposit to drop off?” As the lady busied herself finding the correct forms, Clarke let her eyes wander around the office, spotting a familiar face talking to somebody at the other end of the counter.

“Please,” Lexa begged the secretary, “I need to switch rooms. I’ll take any other room in the entire school.”

“I’m sorry,” the other woman replied, “but your rooming situation was already last minute as it is, and we simply cannot find you a new one this soon before the semester begins.”

As though she can sense Clarke’s presence, Lexa whipped around, staring daggers at the blonde. Clarke offered a small wave.

“Good morning Lexa,” she called out, almost positive that Lexa winced at her words. The brunette turned back to the secretary.

“Please,” she said, one last, desperate attempt to get her way.

“I’m sorry,” came the reply. Turning to face Clarke’s direction once more, Lexa’s face was impassive, emotionless and calm. She left the room, ignoring Clarke as she went, and leaving a blonde in her wake, hurting for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

//

Clarke sat on her bed eating pizza, Raven’s head in her lap. She hadn’t seen Lexa in three days, but she had a suspicion that the brunette was sneaking in when Clarke wasn’t around to get changes of clothes. Octavia swirled in the wheelie chair that sat at Clarke’s desk.

“So where’s this roommate of yours?” Raven asked, a mouth full of pizza, “we’ve literally hung out in your room 24/7 for three days, and she’s yet to appear.”

“I, uh, I honestly have no idea,” Clarke mumbled, “I saw her for like five seconds, and then she bolted and I haven’t seen her since.”

“What’s her name?” Octavia asked.

“Lexa,” Clarke replied. The name left a strange feeling in Clarke’s mouth, as though she were unworthy of saying it.

“Tallish, dark brown hair, green eyes?” Octavia questioned. Clarke put a foot out to stop her friend spinning the chair.

“You know her?” Clarke inquired, her eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, she’s good friends with Lincoln,” the brunette said casually, referring to her boyfriend of a year and a half, “she’s awesome, just transferred schools. You two would get along really well.”

“I doubt that,” Clarke replied, even more confused than ever. She explained to her friends what had happened during their first encounter.

“Bitch sounds crazy,” Raven offered.

“No, I met her a few times during the summer. She’s really smart, and funny. Lincoln’s known her forever,” Octavia countered, as though Lincoln knowing her vouched for Lexa’s personality. “She’ll be at his First-Day-Back party tomorrow night, I know that. Maybe try speak to her there.”

//

The following night, Clarke arrived at Lincoln’s party fashionably late, without either of her friends; Raven and Octavia had arrived earlier to help Lincoln set up. Clarke scanned the crowd with a critical eye, trying to spot someone she knew. In an instant, she saw Lincoln with his arm around Octavia, talking to Lexa, whose back was to Clarke. She made a beeline for them, grabbing a drink out of a jock’s hand and downing it for some liquid courage. She could hear a laugh come from Lexa, a sound that made her stomach flip and her mouth go dry.

“Octavia!” Clarke called out, and immediately Lexa’s body tensed. The blonde watched carefully as Lincoln’s eyes darted from her face to his friend’s, a look of shock and understanding crossing his features, as though he were realizing something for the first time. Without turning around, Lexa darted away, escaping into the crowd before Clarke had managed to get to them. Octavia frowned, and stared up at her boyfriend. Clarke did the same.

“Lincoln, what the fuck is wrong with your friend?” Clarke demanded.

“I had never realized before…” he said to himself, ignoring the angry woman in front of him. “Excuse me,” he said, following Lexa’s footsteps in order to find her.

“That was strange,” Octavia mused. Clarke laughed humorlessly.

“O, that was fucked up! Why does she act like that when I’m around?” Clarke ran a hand through her hair, her frustration pouring out. “What did I do wrong?” 

“So you got a weird roommate, what’s the big deal?”  
“I don’t want somebody to hate me for no reason!”

“Sure, that’s why.” Octavia laughed with a sip of her drink, taking delight at the speed at which Clarke was blushing. Clarke ignored her.

“That’s it. My mission this year is to make her like me.”

“Good luck with that, Princess.”

“Fine. I’m gonna get her to tolerate me.”

//

Getting Lexa to tolerate Clarke would’ve been a lot easier if the former girl were ever in their room. Two weeks into the semester, and Clarke only ever saw the elusive brunette at midnight, when she’d return to their room and go straight to sleep. She was always up and gone before Clarke woke. But most frustrating of all was the fact that Lexa would hang out with Octavia and Lincoln, and from O’s reports, Lexa seemed like a normal, funny, intelligent person.

So why the fuck does she hate me?

She was struck by the idea late one afternoon. Walking back to her room, she passed by the library, and through the big glass windows, she could see Lexa sitting alone, a large law textbook in front of her. She happened to be seated across from Monty, a boy from Clarke’s psych class. With a nervous confidence, Clarke entered the building, and went up to Monty.

“Hey, Monty, you mind if I join?”

Her head snapped up immediately, and from the corner of Clarke’s eye, she watched the green eyes look around at the full library; there was nowhere else to sit.

Monty gestured for Clarke to sit down, and the blonde thanked him, taking out her sketchbook.

“I need to finish a sketch for one of my arts subjects,” she whispered to the boy.

“That’s cool, what do you have to draw?”

“Something beautiful,” Clarke replied, looking pointedly at Lexa as she spoke, “so I decided to draw the library, y’know, the beauty of intelligence and literature.” Lexa refused to look up, intent on ignoring Clarke’s obvious ploy to annoy the life out of her. But luckily for Clarke, Monty was in a chatty mood.

“Ah, that’s a really cool idea. Reminds me a bit of how Aristotle talks about mathematics when talking about beauty and symmetry; math isn’t really the first thing I think of when constructing ideals of beauty.” Goddamn, Clarke loved that her friend was a philosophy major.

“I was thinking more along the lines of challenging the Classics, y’know? Poetics talks about beauty being in wholeness, but we know that no one thing could ever be whole and completely perfect, but--”

“Shh.” Lexa interrupted. Clarke grinned to herself.

“But the beauty of intellect is that it’s unwhole in the sense that you’re always adding to it, and you can combine your intellect with someone else’s.”

“You’re actively trying to achieve the beauty,” Monty said, nodding.

“And the wholeness of that desire and pursuit is--”

“The beauty itself,” Monty finished for her. “Fantastic.”

“Shhhhh,” Lexa whispered again. Strike two, Clarke thought.

“But then why also look at the beauty of literature?” Monty questioned again.

“The truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs,” Clarke replied.

“That’s wonderful,” Monty said, and Lexa let out a small huff, an almost laugh.

“It’s Flaubert,” Clarke explained, “I liked tying in that idea of fullness and expression to the wholeness of beauty. How language fails us so often.”

“Would you say--” 

“Can you both please just shut the fuck up?” Lexa finally burst, shooting from her chair, palms resting on the tabletop. “This is a goddamn library, and you haven’t stopped talking for a moment since you walked in!” Heads began to turn as Lexa’s voice echoed around the library, eager to see what the yelling was about.

“Sorry, we were just--” Monty tried to apologize, but the brunette girl cut him off with record speed, her angry eyes never once leaving Clarke’s. Clarke just stared back defiantly.

“Not only are you making it impossible to study, but you’ve completely butchered Aristotle’s writings with your piss-poor interpretations, and if you’re gonna quote Flaubert, at least choose something worth quoting, and not the bullshit predecessor to one of the greatest lines ever in literature!” Lexa stood, seething, waiting for Clarke to give any sign of recognition or apology.

“Are you quite done?” came a voice from behind Lexa, and the girl whirled around to see one of the librarians standing behind her. Lexa shrunk under the glare of the older woman.

“I’m so sorry--”

“Out, please. You’re banned for the rest of the semester.” Lexa’s mouth fell open into a comical ‘o’.

“But-”

“No buts. I’ve never seen such carry-on in this library; you’re disturbing everyone here.” Lexa looked around the room, everybody’s heads going back to their work at the same time. With one last malicious glare at Clarke, Lexa gathered her things and left the building in a huff. The librarian turned on Clarke next.

“You. Gone. Now.” Clarke looked at her in shock.

“What did I do?”

“You provoked her, and you used Flaubert to do it,” the librarian replied, horrified. Clarke grumbled as she packed up her things and headed out the door, though she wasn’t annoyed for too long. Lexa being banned from the library meant that she would have to spend more time in their room.

Which means I can make her tolerate me.

//

Lexa sat at her desk, scribbling away in a notebook when Clarke walked into the room. 

“Hey,” Clarke said, dropping her bag by her bed. “I’m sorry I got you kicked out of the library.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, nor does she show any acknowledgment of Clarke’s presence in the room. 

“It doesn’t matter that you ignore me, or whatever. I can still talk. And I will. I’ll keep talking until you talk back.”

The scratching sound of Lexa’s pen against paper intensified as the girl hunched over her notebook just a tiny bit more.  
“You see, I’m good at getting my way; I’m an only child.” Clarke flopped down on her bed as the sound of rain started against the window. The blonde girl sighed dramatically.

“Of course it’s raining, just perfect. I was supposed to go on a run with Raven tonight, and now it’s pouring. And Raven will still make me run with her, because ‘a little rain won’t stop a Reyes’,” Clarke imitated.

“You and Raven would probably get along really well. You’d spend all your time together complaining about how annoying I am right in front of me,” she laughed. “Actually, you’re both really smart, so you’d also talk all about politics and science and religion, and Octavia would join in at first, and so would Lincoln and so would I, but by the end of it, it would just be you two debating the use of the Oxford comma or something silly.”

And that’s how it went-- Clarke would talk to Lexa like the latter were a journal or diary, pouring out random thoughts and feelings, sharing about her day. Clarke would tell her roommate all about her friends in college, all about the friends she had in high school, the shitty boys who wouldn’t take no for an answer, the girls that made her realize that maybe she wasn’t as straight as she had liked to think.

“My psychology professor is an old pervert, and I’m this close to complaining to the faculty head about him.”

“Octavia’s major might be in business, but I always thought she’d make the best teacher for some reason. She’s a hardass, but she cares like there’s no tomorrow, and she’s always happiest when she knows she’s making a difference, y’know?”

“I would die if I couldn’t take at least one art class with this biology major, so I’m really happy that they’re letting me take them as gen-eds.”

And then one day, Clarke doesn’t talk. When Lexa woke up, she tried not to notice the red rims around the blonde’s eyes, or the odd sniffle that would break the silence. She tried not to notice the calls that Clarke kept ignoring, or the way she slammed the door on her way out. And later that evening when Lexa returned to their room after dinner, she pretended not to notice Clarke crying on her bed, Octavia failing to comfort her. 

They went to bed early that night, and as Lexa reached out to turn off her bedside lamp, she heard Clarke clear her throat.

“He died ten years ago tonight,” she said softly, “and every year I think I’m gonna be okay, every year I think it’ll get easier, but it never does. Ten years, Lexa. Ten. I’ve officially spent half my life without my dad and it still hasn’t gotten easier.”

Lexa was glad it was dark, that way Clarke couldn’t see the tears that were pooling in the bright green eyes across the room, and Lexa wouldn’t be even more tempted to comfort the other girl.

“Sometimes I wonder who I’d be if I wasn’t the girl whose dad died. Everyone tells you how brave you are, how special you are, and you start to think that the most important thing about you is your dead relative. It’s so fucked up.

“And then I’m like, would I be kinder if he were still alive? Would I be funnier or be at a different college? Would I have a different taste in films or music or books if he had been around to recommend his favorites? How much of me is made up of not having a dad around?”

Quiet settled around Clarke’s words and the two girls lie in the night’s silence.

“I’m sorry, Lexa,” Clarke whispered, “for whatever it was I did to you, whatever made you hate me so much. Goodnight.”

And only when she heard Clarke’s breaths deepen and even out in slumber did Lexa reply.

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

//

Clarke paced around the room in annoyance, checking her watch every minute or so. From what Lexa could deduce, Raven and Octavia were late picking her up for their Girl’s Night Out, and she was starting to get pissed.

“This is just classic Raven, I’ll tell you,” Clarke told Lexa who was reading on her bed. “She’s probably gotten changed like three times and decided to stop for slushees on the way here. Meanwhile, I’m just supposed to wait around until they’re good and ready to show up.”

Lexa lazily turned the page of her book, much more invested in it than she was in Clarke’s social life. She rolled her eyes as Clarke’s phone rang its obnoxious ringtone.

“Finally, Octavia. Please tell me you’re outside,” Clarke huffed as she answered, still pacing around the room. She stopped suddenly, not moving an inch, as the voice on the other end of the phone spoke muffled words that Lexa couldn’t hear. Lexa watched with mild concern as Clarke’s expression grew more and more worried, the blonde running a hand through her thick hair.

“I’ll be there soon,” Clarke promised into the phone, before walking over to Lexa’s bed, and taking the book out of the brunette’s hand.

“I know you hate me or whatever, but here’s what’s going to happen,” Clarke said, her voice manically calm, as though in an instant she would break down or go mad. “You are going to put on a jacket and shoes, and you are going to take my car keys, and you are going to drive me to Grounder Hospital because I can’t drive myself because I don’t trust myself to drive right now.” Clarke began pacing the room once more, this time her steps more harsh, her body more rigid.

“Lincoln said there was an accident and Octavia’s okay and he’s there with her but Raven was really banged up and-and-and--” Clarke’s words morphed into sobs, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t hide her surprise when Lexa put a hand on her shoulder, and tried to get her to calm down.

“Shh, come on. Let’s go.” 

They drove in almost silence, the only sound between them the low rumble of the aging car and the soft late night radio. Lexa listened quietly to the short shallow breaths coming from Clarke, and it took her a while to realize that she was saying actually saying something, over and over again, a mantra to keep her sane until they got to the hospital.

“She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay.”

They found Lincoln and Octavia in the waiting room, and the two look tired and sad. Octavia was covered in cuts, one on her forehead had stitches; her arm was in a sling. Clarke looked like she was about to explode waiting for information; nobody seemed to want to speak first.

“How is she?” Lexa offered, and Clarke looked grateful, though she stared straight ahead.

“She’s in surgery now,” Lincoln replied. “They don’t know how long it’ll take. But she was, uh, she was pretty bad.”

“Have you called her mom?” Clarke asked, and Octavia nodded.

“Last we spoke to her she was getting on the next available flight.” Clarke slumped down into one of the hard plastic chairs, her head in her hands.

“What the hell even happened?”

“Drunk asshole driving a huge van. Hit her side of the car. Really really hard.” Octavia shook as she spoke, and Lincoln threw a big, comforting arm around her uninjured shoulder. The foursome sat for what felt like an eternity, waiting for news about their friend, waiting for her mother to arrive. Finally, as the night turned into morning, a doctor pushed through the doors and approached the friends.

“You’re friends of Miss Reyes?” he asked.  
“Yes, sir. Her mother’s on her way now,” Clarke answered.

“Can you tell us how she is?” Octavia asked, her eyes pooling with tears.

“It was touch and go for a bit, but she’s a fighter. Really pulled through.” The four kids let out a sigh of relief knowing their friend was alive.

“Our biggest concern is now her leg, which was completely crushed. There appeared to be some nerve damage; it was a mess.”

“Will she be able to walk again?” asked Lincoln.

“I really hope so. Why don’t you kids go back to school and get some rest? We’ll take good care of her until her mom gets here, promise. Have a good night.”

The four stood, unsure what to do next.

“O you should go home,” Clarke finally said, finding her voice again. “Lincoln, take her home.” Before the two could protest, Lexa stepped in.

“Clarke and I can stay here and wait for Mrs. Reyes. Octavia, you need to rest. We’ll call you if anything happens, promise.” Lincoln bent down and hugged his friend closely, before turning on Clarke and giving her the same treatment. The couple left, leaving Clarke and Lexa in yet another silence.

“Thank you, Lexa,” Clarke finally said.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa replied.

“You know, I still really don’t know what I did to you. It’s almost like you couldn’t stand me from the moment you saw me,” Clarke laughed humorlessly. Lexa hesitated momentarily, before deciding to speak.

“It wasn’t from when I first saw you,” she said, turning to find the blue eyes that she begrudgingly loved. “It was from the moment I heard you.”

Clarke waited, unsure if Lexa was going to supply anything else. She could feel the anxiety radiating from her, the Atlassian weight of nerves and the sadness that beared down on Lexa. But she knew not to push, not to push those bright green eyes even further away.

“You walked into our room, and I heard your voice and… The thing is, Clarke, your voice... you sound just like my wife.”


	2. I'm Not Some Light In Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa tells all

_You are twelve years old when you meet your best friend. It’s the second day of middle school, and she’s seated next to you for your first science class of sixth grade. She taps her black converse against the table leg, and picks at the skin around her nails._

_“I’m Lexa,” you introduce, holding out your hand. She shakes it firmly, grateful for your kindness._

_“Costia,” she replies, and her name sounds sweet and calm and you desperately want to feel it resting on your lips. “I just moved here from Colorado.”_

_“That’s cool. I’ve never been to Colorado before.”_

_“There’s not much there,” she laughs, “I like it here a lot more.” You like the way she laughs-- her eyes crinkle and there’s a small dimple on her right cheek, and it sounds so pretty and soft and great._

_“Do you wanna hang out some time, Costia?” you ask, and you’re right; the name sounds perfect on your lips. She nods eagerly._

_“I don’t have many friends here, yet.”_

_“Don’t worry,” you assure her, “I’ll be your friend, promise.”_

_//_

_You are thirteen when you kiss your best friend for the first time. You sit in Costia’s room, the door pulled to, and My Chemical Romance plays from the new iPod speakers she had gotten for her birthday. You’re lying on her bed, and she’s beside you reading a book, and all of a sudden you don’t know what comes over you._

_The light shines through the window and hits her just perfectly, so for a second it’s as though she’s glowing or shining starlight or something. She catches you staring, and gives you a weird look._

_“What? What are you looking at?” she asks, wiping at her face._

_You can’t contain yourself any longer. You sit up, and hover over her, your face right above hers._

_“Lexa?”_

_“Costia,” you breathe, “I really, really want to kiss you right now.” Your heart hammers in your chest, and you feel as though time stands still as she stares up at you, her deep brown eyes searching your green ones as though her life depends on it._

_Finally, she pulls your shirt towards her, and you lower your head slowly, slowly, until your lips brush against hers and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in celebration. She puts her hands around your neck, and you revel in the fact that holy shit your best friend is kissing you back._

_You don’t know how to explain it to anyone else, so for a long time the kissing stays between the two of you. You’re thirteen and you’ve only known her for a year, but it’s as though Costia has been by your side for eternity, her hand safely in yours, her touch yours and yours only. It feels normal and right and safe, and you love her as much as your thirteen year old love will allow._

_//_

_You’re sixteen when you notice that something’s wrong. Costia has been your girlfriend for almost three years, and the girl that sits before you is not the same girl. She’s lethargic and irritable and you don’t know how to ask her if she’s okay. But you’re scared and so you go to her parents._

_“Mrs Jones?” you say timidly, walking into the kitchen._

_“I’ve told you a hundred times, dear, call me Indra,” the older woman smiles._

_“Indra,” you say, “I think there’s something wrong with Costia.”_

_“What do you mean? Where is she?”_

_“She’s asleep, like she always seems to be.”_

_“Oh, honey, she’s probably just run down from all her after school activities.”_

_“That’s the thing, Indra. She stopped going to her extracurriculars because she was too exhausted, and now she’s even more tired. I’m just, I’m scared that something’s wrong with her.” Indra stands and hugs you tightly; the woman has been like a second mother to you for the past four years, and you feel comfort in her embrace._

_“Lexa, I love that you care about my daughter so much.”_

_“I love her.”_

_“I know. And I know you wouldn’t come to me if you weren’t genuinely concerned.” She rubs soothing circles on your back. “I’ll speak to her and we’ll figure all this out.”_

_//_

_You’re sixteen years old when your girlfriend is diagnosed with cancer. It’s in her blood and her brain and they pump her full of drugs to kill it but the only thing they seem to do is destroy her even more. She’s cold and thin and you fear that if you hug her too hard you’ll kill her._

_And still, you’re by her side whenever you physically can be. Before school, after, on weekends, vacations. You stay by Costia’s side because you’ve loved her forever and she’s the best thing about your life._

_On the days when she’s too sick to talk to you, you lie beside her, holding her small body in your own, and you tell her about the future you see for yourselves. You tell her how you’ll go to college in New York City and drink expensive coffee and fall even more in love with the city lights as the backdrop to your lives. You tell her how you’ll go travelling when you’ve both graduated, all over Europe: drinking wine in Italy and navigating cobblestone streets in Prague and making love under a Parisian moon. You tell her how you’ll both return all the more worldly, and how you’ll surprise her with a proposal on the hardwood floors of the first apartment you buy together. You tell her how you’ll marry in Autumn, so your white dresses stand out against the golden and orange leaves. You tell her how you’ll have three kids, each one cuter and smarter than the next, all of them with her deep brown eyes and dimpled smile. You tell her how you’ll grow old in the country, holding her close kind of like you are right now. You talk and you talk and you talk, of a future you would die to obtain, of a life you would kill to live. And all the while, she breathes unsteadily in your arms._

_//_

_You’re a day shy of your eighteenth birthday when they tell you she won’t see nineteen. But instead of crying, you put her in your car, and you drive to Las Vegas and by the time you get there you’re old enough to marry her, all eighteen-years-and-one-week of her. You put your grandmother’s ring on her thin, bony finger, and you promise to love her more than you’ve loved her before, to care for her when she cannot care for herself, and to remember her when she is no longer by your side._

_Your parents aren’t even mad when you get home and move into the Jones’ basement. They understand that if you can’t go to college with her, if you can’t see the world or have kids with her, at least you could call her your wife, even if it were only for a year or so. You love her and love her and then love her some more, even when she’s asleep more than she’s awake, or when all she wants is to lie alone and die. You tell her you love her every chance you get, and even then, you know it will never be enough. Nothing less than the rest of your life will ever be enough._

_//_

_You’re nineteen years old when the love of your life finally slips away, peacefully in her sleep, one year and three days after she agreed to be your wife. Your insides turn to nothing and your bones turn to dust and you wish with all your soul that you could simply stop being because what was the point of it all if she was not there with you?_

_But somehow you pick yourself up and you go to college in New York because you know that’s where she’d want you to be and you’re in freshman year with everyone a year younger than you and you don’t really make friends because how do you tell them ‘I took a gap year to spend with my late wife’?_

_And then after two years you transfer back to be closer to home because New York City doesn’t feel right without her with you and why hang the backdrop to a life you never had the chance to live._

_//_

_And so, you’re unpacking your things and making your bed when you meet your new roommate. She’s blonde and beautiful and her blue eyes hold a universe that you yearn to explore. But then she opens her mouth and you feel your heart stop beating and your blood stop pumping and you don’t know how to think or act or move because holy shit, Costia’s voice is coming out of that girl’s mouth. Costia’s voice which you’ve missed every day for two years and hearing it makes you want to stop existing and live in eternity with your wife once more._

_So you run. You run to Lincoln, the boy who’s known you your entire life, and you cry onto his shoulder without telling him what’s wrong. And the next morning, you hear her again when you try to change rooms, and it physically hurts you to be forced to listen to the voice that belongs to two girls._

_You pretty much live in Lincoln’s room and the library for the few days before school start, the only thing you tell him is that you don’t like your new roommate. But then at his party he realizes why you don’t like her, why you need to stay away, because if you listen to her for a moment longer, you swear to a god you’re not sure exists that you’ll fall to pieces and never be put back together again. And he tells you to just stay in the library away from her, because he knows Clarke and she hates the library more than anything else._

_But then, there she is, and you’re screaming at her like a madwoman, and being kicked out of your refuge away from Clarke, and you’re forced to listen to the running commentary on her life that she starts to provide. And somewhere along the way, you find yourself not only falling back in love with your wife’s voice, but also becoming enamoured with the words of the stranger that carry the sweet tune of Costia. ___

__//_ _

__“And so now I’m stuck,” Lexa said, her voice hoarse from telling Clarke the story of her lost love, “I’m stuck being almost twenty two, and a widow, and praying that a person can have more than one soulmate.”_ _

__“Why do you pray for that?”_ _

__“Because if a person only has one soulmate in their lifetime, then I’ve got to face the fact that I’ll never love the person I end up with as much as I loved the girl I met when I was twelve.”_ _

__Lexa rested her head in her hands, silent tears tracing wet paths down her thin cheeks. Clarke placed a soothing hand on her roommate’s back, trying to comfort the unyielding pain that coursed through her body._ _

__“For what it’s worth, I think you can have more than one soulmate,” Clarke whispered as Lexa’s began to calm down a bit. She couldn’t speak above a whisper knowing what the sound of her voice did to Lexa. “I think that a soulmate is someone to whom we entrust our entire beings, our mind, body and soul. And in return, they give us theirs and we care for it as best we can._ _

__“There’s no limit on how many people we can give ourselves over to, but we just make sure that we choose people worthy of our love, who’ll hold our hearts like they’d hold their own.”_ _

__“I just… I want it to get easier,” Lexa whined. “I want to ease the pain and not feel so guilty when I feel connected to someone else.”_ _

__“You don’t ease pain,” Clarke replied, “you overcome it.”_ _

__And out of nowhere, Lexa’s lips found Clarke’s, and the hairs on the back of their necks rose in excitement before Lexa pulled away too soon._ _

__“I’m sorry, Clarke, that was inappropriate.”_ _

__“Yeah, you do have crappy timing.”_ _

__“Maybe… maybe we can just be friends for a bit, and navigate those waters first.” Clarke smiled and rested her head against Lexa’s shoulder._ _

__“As my friend, you should know that I’m affectionate as hell, and right now I need a hug.” Lexa laughed softly, before putting her arm around Clarke’s shoulder. It felt more natural than either of them thought it should, but neither of them inched away from it, instead choosing to embrace the comfort that the other had to offer._ _

__//_ _

__The party was in full swing by the time Lexa showed up. Octavia and Clarke had decided that Raven needed a welcome back to school party. The girl had spent two weeks in the hospital, and was adamant to return straight to school when she was released. Lexa wove through the crowds, trying to find any familiar faces. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she saw Lincoln standing next to the drinks table, his arm around Octavia._ _

__“Hey, guys,” she said as she approached them. In return, they give her a drink, which the brunette accepts readily._ _

__“How’re you going, Lex?” Lincoln asked with pity-filled eyes._ _

__“I’m fine, Lincoln.” Lexa knew that he didn’t believe a word she had said, but she really didn’t want to be reminded of anything that night._ _

__“Just.. just stay safe,” he told her solemnly. She rolled her eyes. He didn’t need to baby her; he needed to leave her alone._ _

__It was unfortunate timing on Clarke’s part._ _

__“Lexa, you made it!” she greeted, and Lincoln watched warily as Lexa greeted Clarke back._ _

__“Maybe it’s not a good time, Clarke,” he said to the blonde girl._ _

__“What’re you talking about, Linc?”_ _

__“Maybe you should leave Lexa alone.” Octavia nudged him in the ribs._ _

__“Mind your business, babe.”_ _

__“Yeah, Lincoln, mind your damn business,” Lexa said loudly, her anger growing. “I don’t need you monitoring all of my interactions and waiting for me to fall apart.”_ _

__“I didn’t-”_ _

__But Lexa was already stalking away, leaving the party as soon as she had gotten there._ _

__“I thought everything was cool now,” Octavia said._ _

__“It is,” Clarke replied, before turning to Lincoln. “She told me everything, about Costia.”_ _

__“She did??”_ _

__“Yeah, the night of the accident, while we were waiting for Raven’s mom.”_ _

__“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Clarke, but it-”_ _

__“It wasn’t your story to tell, and I understand that. Hell, I reckon I would’ve been more pissed if you had told me.”_ _

__The party began winding down close to midnight, and Clarke bid her friends goodnight as they finished cleaning up. Lexa was awake as the blonde entered the room, reading a book on her bed. She kicked off her boots and fell into bed._ _

__“What’re you reading?” she asked the brunette._ _

__“The Faraway Tree,” Lexa replied softly. Clarke laughed._ _

__“Isn’t that a bit below the reading level of an English Lit major?”_ _

__“It was her favourite.” Clarke sobered immediately; there was no need to ask who ‘she’ was._ _

__“I’m sorry for getting worked up earlier and leaving the party. I’ll find Lincoln and apologize in the morning.” Clarke hesitated before responding._ _

__“Is everything alright?”_ _

__“It’s her birthday today.”_ _

__“Shit, Lexa.”_ _

__“Next week’s our wedding anniversary, and then a few days later, it’ll be three years since I lost her.” Clarke was pinned to her bed, torn between comforting the girl on the other side of the room and giving her the space she needed._ _

__“It scares me how… it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I feel like I’m moving on too quickly, that it should hurt more, and I should be sadder, and-”_ _

__Lexa threw her book across the room, hitting the door with a thud. Angry tears fell from her eyes as she stood and tore her chair away from the desk, throwing it, too, across the room. She swiped the papers from the desk to the floor, and then turned onto her bookshelf, ripping it apart in frustration._ _

__“Lexa!” Clarke leapt from her bed, throwing her arms around her roommate’s abdomen, pinning her arms to her sides._ _

__“Let me go!” the brunette screamed, “let me go!” But Clarke held on even stronger, letting Lexa get the fight out of her system, patiently waiting as the struggle stopped and Lexa went limp in her arms. The two girls dropped to the floor, a sob escaping from Lexa, her face wet with tears._ _

__They sat amongst the mess like that for what felt like hours, Lexa’s breathing eventually returning to normal, Clarke’s soothing voice whispering into her ear._ _

___You’re okay._ _ _

___You’re okay._ _ _

___You’re okay. ____ _

____“She’ll always be a part of you, as long as you let her be,” Clarke said when she felt it was safe. “Even when you think you don’t miss her anymore, even when it doesn’t hurt for every single moment of every single day. She’s always there. And for every moment you’re okay, there’ll be one where you think you can’t breathe properly.”_ _ _ _

____“And what does it mean if on her birthday I can only think about kissing another girl?” Lexa whispered, looking up at Clarke._ _ _ _

____“It means… It means you’re alive, Lex. You have a beating heart and a pulse, and you can’t let yourself die just because she did.”_ _ _ _

____Clarke disentangled herself from Lexa, standing and going to their fridge. She pulled out two beers, and handed one to her friend. Next, she pulled out something else, though Lexa couldn’t see what it was. When Clarke stopped fiddling around, Lexa’s breath caught in her throat._ _ _ _

____Sitting on her desk was a cupcake, a single lit candle sitting in its icing._ _ _ _

____“I stole it from Raven’s party,” Clarke murmured. “Now it seems like--”_ _ _ _

____“Like it was meant to be,” Lexa finished, her green eyes boring into Clarke’s blue ones._ _ _ _

____Clarke went to sleep that night with her mind drowning in images of Lexa’s tear-filled eyes, and the way she felt held up against Clarke’s body. Her dreams were saturated with green forests warriors on horseback._ _ _ _

____And Lexa slept with dreams of bright blue skies and blonde girls falling from heaven._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know what you think of the chapter. The next one should be up sooner rather than later.
> 
> tumblr: thethinstillsound  
> instagram: @californiarollerderby


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